


you're ok i guess

by sisstrider



Category: South Park
Genre: Gen, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, Yandere Craig, keep in mind the first tag tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-02 21:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sisstrider/pseuds/sisstrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweek <i>kind of</i> sort of might have just doomed everybody.</p><p>(Or not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHY is it always yandere Craig why can't it be yandere Cartman instead
> 
> Okay so...literally the only thing I knew about Creek is once I saw a fanfic where Craig was a yandere. So that episode had me worried for a second there.

It was a normal day in South Park Elementary. In one of the bathrooms, Cartman was trying to get Tweek to touch his penis.

“Come _on_ , this is probably totally normal for you, ‘cause, you’re gay and all,” Cartman was saying.

“Huh? No it’s not! I don’t do that!” Tweek protested. “Look, I look gay enough already!”

“Aw, c’mon, I thought you could be cool and...help a guy out! Uh...” Glancing around the bathroom and finding nobody else there, Cartman started talking faster in a loud whisper. “Listen, I’ll give you ten dollars if you touch my dick.”

“WHAT? T-ten dollars?!” Tweek repeated. With ten dollars, he could get a few cups of coffee – well, he could get it for free at his family’s shop, but on the rare occasions he had to go out of town, he would be prepared.

“Yeah, think of all the _stuff_ you could get with ten dollars,” Cartman said. Well, Tweek had already been thinking of that, and honestly, he didn’t think it was that bad of a deal – that, and he was definitely feeling the pressure at that moment.

“Well—I just wanted to _piss_ , Cartman! But okay, fine, Jesus!” With a shaky hand, Tweek reached out to touch Cartman’s dick so he could get the money – only for his hand to spasm, causing him to punch Cartman right in the dick.

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Cartman yelled, doubling over as well as he could. “I’m not giving you money for that, you little shit!” Tweek didn’t hear what he had said, though – with a loud yelp, the smaller boy had run out of the bathroom as fast as he could.

Fortunately for him, it was recess. That meant Tweek wasn’t going to be stuck in a room with people who were going to ask him if he had _really_ punched Cartman in the dick – he just sat on the swings, unnoticed by the other kids. Craig was nowhere to be found, too, and that meant there was no pressure on them to act like a couple.

The thought of the other boy had reminded him of something though – last night, he had been watching some Japanese show. There had been this girl who liked a guy, and when that guy had shown interest in someone else, she had killed them. Right on screen. Naturally, he had screamed, and his parents had come in and told him not to watch that stuff anymore, but what he had seen had been burned into his brain. There couldn’t be people like that in real life, could there? It had to be fake, just like other obviously fabricated things in those shows.

But now, sitting on the swing, he wondered, _Oh god, what if_ ** _Craig’s_** _like that? What if he kills Cartman because I touched his dick? I d-didn’t know he was gonna be like that! Oh Jesus, I just got Cartman killed!_

* * *

The next morning, when he got to school, the first thing Tweek did was head straight for where Cartman was every single morning: right in front of his locker, with his friends.

He wasn’t there.

However, Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were, and Tweek ran over to them, shouting, “Hey, guys! W-where’d Cartman go?”

Kenny mumbled something incoherent that he didn’t catch, and Stan ended up having to explain. “I dunno,” he said. Well, there was Tweek’s answer. Cartman was gone. His friends didn’t know where he was. Now, would they know if their friend had been _murdered?_ They probably wouldn’t, and that meant Cartman could have been dead. And that meant he had been right: he had gotten Cartman killed, all for ten dollars that he hadn’t even gotten.

“G-gah! It’s happening, it actually h-h—” Tweek was twitching like crazy, and if he continued talking, he was likely to start screaming. He cut himself off, instead, forcing himself to take deep breaths, as ragged as they were.

“Whoa. Calm down there, Tweek,” Kyle said, trying to put his hand on Tweek’s shoulder, a gesture that the smaller boy jerked away from. “ _What_ did you say’s actually happening?”

“Cartman’s _dead_ , ok? He’s dead, he—Craig did it, he killed Cartman cause I punched him in the dick yesterday and that counts as t-touching it, Jesus!” Receiving only confused looks from the other boys, Tweek continued. “I s-saw it on TV the other day, some people w-will kill anyone if they look like they’re into...whoever they like—oh _god, what if you guys are next ‘cause I talked to you?! Gah!_ ” He had to get out of there before he doomed any more people. He was sure none of them were interested in him, so there was no logical reason for them to be targeted in the first place – but they were still in danger.

“...Being gay is really _weird_ ,” Kyle commented, watching as Tweek ran off.

“I know, right?” Stan replied.

* * *

Targets. There were so many targets everywhere – if Tweek talked to anybody there, it was possible that they could get killed. He didn’t want to have the guilt of knowing he had directly caused someone’s death weighing over his head, and knowing he _could_ end up getting someone killed – especially since it had happened already – was stressful. The most he could hope for was people ignoring him, although that proved difficult now that everyone in town thought he was gay. The fact that he had been singled out for some mental health awareness program didn’t help matters, either.

Why did _he,_ of all people, have to be the one singled out for all these things? Singled out for being “gay,” singled out for being maladaptively paranoid, and now, singled out as the object of a murderously jealous person’s interest. Again, he hadn’t seen Craig all day – _off hiding the body, most likely_ – which was a relief. Tweek didn’t know what he’d do if he had to face him. Would he get killed, too? He didn’t want to die, he hadn’t done anything to deserve this fate, he had no idea why people had started drawing those things that had made people think he was gay in the first place – and that was how it went until lunch. 

Tweek was too anxious to eat, and so he stood by himself in the corner, keeping an eye out for _anyone_ trying to approach him. If anyone tried to speak to him, he’d have to wave them off because Craig was there, sitting at one of the tables with his friends. If anyone appeared to be too close to Tweek, and Craig noticed that, well – that was it for them.

Someone was waving at Tweek, though, in an attempt to call him over. It was hard to miss Kenny in his orange jacket, standing up and waving his arm like that. Tweek didn’t react to that, not wanting to put Kenny in danger – knowing that he could put _anyone_ in danger was way too much pressure on him.

In the end, Kenny just ended up going over to him, instead. “How’re y’ doin’?”

“Aah! I c—I can’t _talk_ right now!” Tweek screamed, flinching away, his shoes squeaking loudly on the linoleum tiles. “You’re gonna get _killed_ , man!”

Kenny shrugged. After all, dying was nothing new to him. 

“Look! I don’t want you to get killed, Jesus!” When he yelled, Tweek’s voice got very squeaky, which had the ability to draw the attention of everyone in a twenty foot radius. Every pair of eyes in the room was instantly drawn to him, including those belonging to the last person in the room that he had wanted to notice him. “Augh! Oh my g-god, what are you looking at? T-there’s nothing t-to see here, I swear! Stop it!”

Kenny only blinked as if to say it was Tweek’s own fault for screaming in the first place, then turned and left the cafeteria. Taking the cue, Tweek followed him out of the cafeteria, down the hall, and into the bathroom that he and Cartman had been in the previous day. He almost wanted to yell out that they absolutely _couldn’t_ go in there, since it could only lead to bad things happening, but people had heard his voice enough for that day. He had already alerted Craig to the fact that he had gone off with Kenny, did he really need to make things any _worse?_

“‘kay...” Kenny began, pulling down on his hood a bit, “Why d’ you think Cartman died?”

“H-he’s—ghh—not here, and…did you get any _calls_ from him?”

“No.”

“Any _texts?_ ”

“No.”

“Has he p-posted anything on Twitter at all?”

“…No?” Kenny said, shrugging. He wasn’t the best person to answer those questions, anyway, seeing as he couldn’t afford anything like an iPhone.

“Gah! He’s d- _dead_ , I’m telling you!” Tweek whipped around, focusing his attention on the side of one or the stalls. “He’s dead! I t-touched his dick in here, and—augh!—Craig got jealous and killed him!”

Kenny snickered. “I heard y’ punched Cartman right in the dick. He w’s whinin’ ‘bout it all recess.”

“It’s not _funny,_ Jesus!” Tweek exclaimed. “H-he _died_ because of me! Ghh—y-you’re gonna die because I’m t—because I’m talking to you!” The only thing on his mind was an overwhelming desire to get _out_ and perhaps hide in his room with coffee. Maybe he’d make himself so anxious he’d throw up, and then he could go home. The problem was, if he was sick, the teachers would probably go send Craig to fetch him, and that’d only make everything worse.

“W’ll...y’ don’t look ok. Stan ‘n Kyle ‘re w’rried. ‘Y kinda freaked us th’ fuck out over there,” Kenny said.

“No, I’m _not_ okay! E-everyone thinks I’m g-going out with a—with a _murderer!_ ” At that point, Tweek no longer had any control over his body, and he nearly fell to the ground – with how boys’ bathrooms at school were, he’d _definitely_ get some kind of horrible disease from that – if not for Kenny catching his arm.

“I don’t th’nk Craig’d kill Cartman,” Kenny said, offering his opinion. “Sure he looks like he’d shoot up a school, but...”

At that, a spasm went through Tweek, and he nearly fell down, taking Kenny with him. He could see it now – they would all be an assembly, and Craig would get up and gun them all down...

“Don’t piss yourself...” Kenny began, pointing towards a urinal. “I w’s just k’ddin’.”

“Jesus, Kenny, it’s not f-funny!” Tweek managed to get out. “Why don’t you—ghh—take this seriously? Your friend’s _dead!_ ”

“Cartman’s not dead,” Kenny replied. “He’s j’st not at school.” He sounded so _sure_ about it, and Tweek could almost believe he was right, but Kenny had no idea as to where Cartman was. If he did, he would have come out and said it.

“H-how do you _know_ that? Have you seen him? Y-you just said you haven’t!” Although he appreciated the attempt to calm him down, tearing Tweek away from his paranoid thoughts was nowhere near that simple. The truth of the matter was, as long as Cartman remained MIA, Tweek had reason to believe he had died.

“...Look at it th’s way...you’ve been gone from school some days, and you’re alive,” Kenny reasoned. 

Tweek did not inform him that on those days, he had been too terrified to go to school, cowering in his room because he was convinced something terrible would happen to him if he went out. Come to think of it, he wondered why he hadn’t just stayed home – maybe it had been because he needed to see if Cartman was at school or not. Not knowing was worse than knowing, after all, since it essentially got him to stop worrying about if what he thought was true or not...but now he knew _for sure_ that it was true, and it meant that everyone was in trouble.

“Y-yeah...” he replied, fidgeting with the end of his shirt. In situations like these, he had to remember the little things, at least. He had screamed, he had certainly drawn Craig’s attention, but nothing bad had happened to him. In fact, the only abnormal thing that had happened all day – which _included_ the fact that people believed him and Craig to be a couple as abnormal things – was Kenny coming up to talk to him. “If you r-really think...Cartman’s not—he isn’t dead, then...” He didn’t get to finish his thought, though, because the lunch period ended.

Walking out of the bathroom, Kenny looked over his shoulder. “C’mon,” he said to Tweek.  “L’s go, it smells l’ke shit in here.”

It indeed smelled like shit in that bathroom, but there were more pressing matters for Tweek to worry about, like the fact that he wasn’t safe yet. Until he saw Cartman alive, or proof that Craig _didn’t_ want to kill anyone (that’d be harder to prove), he would continue to fear for his safety. “A-alright, you—is this even _safe?_ ” He had to remember nothing had happened – many things could have happened while they were in the bathroom, like Craig coming in and attacking Kenny. And that didn’t happen, so maybe he _was_ safe.

“Yep.” With that, they left the bathroom and began heading to the classroom. For once, the crowds of people gave Tweek a sense of security, instead of making him anxious. He was easily lost among everyone else, unless his twitching gave him away, which was just what he needed. He didn’t know what to make about how nonchalant Kenny was about everything, though. On one hand, it meant he might be overreacting to Cartman’s absence, but he also felt like he was in real danger and Kenny wasn’t taking him seriously.

One of the doors to the storage rooms up ahead was ajar. It was starting to disturb him – a door slightly open like that couldn’t mean anything good. He had a feeling some horrible danger was behind that door. Maybe Craig was hiding in that room, and he would grab Tweek and pull him into the closet while he passed by. Whatever it was, he did _not_ want to pass that door, and he stepped around Kenny and walked on his other side. 

The door creaked, opening more as they approached it. And right when they passed, it opened all the way, and although there was no Craig in there, there was a large metal shelf loaded with boxes full of reams paper. And it was tipping over.

The shelf landed right on Kenny. Tweek had jumped away from the door as soon as it had opened, and he had gotten away from the shelf before he had landed. “Oh g- _god_ , Kenny! Y-you’re— _hgck!_ ” He came up to the shelf, scrambling over reddened pieces of paper and cardboard and bits of metal. His chest _burned_ , but no matter how much he tried to inhale, he seemed to be unable to get anything into his lungs but his own saliva.

The only thing his mind could focus on was Kenny’s brightly colored jacket, buried under metal shelving and crushed boxes and sheets of paper. From what he could see, Kenny’s body was completely _broken_ – if he was still alive, he had to have been in unimaginable pain. 

Then, Tweek noticed the dampness on his knees and shins, and how wet and _squishy_ the material under his hands seemed to be. He was able to take his eyes away from Kenny, to look down at what he was crawling on...and it was paper, soaked through and turned into pulp by the puddle of blood radiating from Kenny’s body. At that revelation, Tweek retched violently, but nothing came out. Instead, he stayed there on all fours, and tried to take a deep breath – and ended up _screaming_ instead.

Because of the loud crash, and now, Tweek screaming, people had come out of the classrooms to see what was going on. First and foremost were Stan and Kyle, who ran right up to the fallen shelf to gawk at what had just happened.

“Holy _shit_ , what do we tell Cartman?” Stan exclaimed. It would be _awkward_ at the very least to come back and find that his friend had died because of a storage shelf falling on him.

“He’s _dead!_ ” Kyle exclaimed. “We need to call—”

Before he could finish what he was saying, the school’s PA system came on. “Okay. I just heard that a student here got killed by a storage shelf falling on him,” PC Principal said over the intercom. “To avoid making people think we at South Park Elementary advocate the murder of unproblematic children, school is cancelled for the rest of today while we figure out what happened. Everyone go home now.”

Even though they were looking right at a fatal accident, the school kids cheered when they heard school was cancelled. The majority of them cleared out as fast as possible. Meanwhile, Tweek was hung up over a certain thing PC Principal had said – _the_ ** _murder_** _of unproblematic children_. So it _had_ been something someone had caused, and that meant that he wasn’t safe at all. It really was true, then. If he appeared to be too close to anyone, Craig would get rid of them...he would even cause a very public incident at school, apparently.

All of this was too much pressure for him. So much he was likely to explode. But instead of exploding, Tweek blacked out, falling face-first into the pool of blood.

* * *

When he came to again, Tweek was too afraid to move. People could have abducted him after he fainted at school, for all he knew. He had to survey the area _very_ carefully, and _then_ he could move about if it was a safe place – but now he knew _there were no safe places!_ Well, that last time, it was because he had yelled in the cafeteria, though. Perhaps if he kept a low profile here, he could get out undetected.

Sitting up, Tweek found that he was in his room, anyway. If there was _anywhere_ that was still a refuge for him, it was his room. With that in mind, he sat up and found that he was wearing clean clothes, although he could feel dried blood still on his skin and matted into the strands of his hair. Someone must have notified his parents that he had passed out at school, and they had taken him home and changed his clothes for him. That was fair enough.

As someone who didn’t sleep very often, waking up after being unconscious was an odd experience. His head was throbbing, and he really needed to go downstairs and get some coffee to fix that, but it hurt so much that he was reluctant to move.

It took a while for him to distinguish between his head pounding and someone knocking on his door. “Wh—uh, I’ll be right there!” he yelled, getting out of bed and heading to his bedroom door.

“ _H-h—who’s there?_ ” Tweek was going to say, but the words died in his throat when he opened the door and saw who was there. Once again, he started choking on his own breath, and he shut the door and leaned against it, coughing hard.

The last thing he needed was Craig Tucker in his house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u kno he dead


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RECAP: Tweek learns it was a bad idea to watch anime. Also, I'm a bastard because I killed Kenny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy _shit_ guys, I'm amazed by the reception this fic got. I mean, if you look at the other things I write, this is really different from them. I just have...a lot of ideas for this, which is why I'm churning them out so fast.
> 
> If you liked my fic, you can go pester me about it at yassukematsuda.tumblr.com (I literally only post Metal Gear though) or my writing blog (the url is ystri)
> 
> Please don't expect me to get another one out by the end of the month, though, but if I do, go in the comments and yell at me to do my fucking college apps already, because that's what I'm supposed to be doing.

“...What the hell.”

Craig didn’t understand why Tweek had looked so terrified just then, but to him, it didn’t really mean much. He didn’t understand most of the things that went through Tweek’s head, in the first place – for all he knew, the majority of it was screaming. Besides, if Tweek seemed to be this terrified of him, then maybe everyone would get off their asses about them being a couple, which wasn’t even true.

However, Tweek _was_ his friend, and he _had_ just passed out after witnessing a horrific accident where one kid had died. Sighing, Craig went to go knock on the door again. “Hey. Open up,” he said.

Instead of opening the door, Tweek just shouted through it. “O-oh my god, what do you want? A-are you here to _kill_ me, oh Jesus—you c—you’ll never take me alive!”

Craig frowned. _Kill?_ Where did he get that one from? When had he ever indicated he had seriously wanted to murder Tweek? “Dude. I’m not here to kill you,” he said, pushing the door open. It wasn’t locked, after all.

“T-th-then...what do you _want?_ ” Tweek asked, busying himself with messing with the buttons on his shirt – it was buttoned correctly for once, since someone else had needed to put a clean shirt on him. All he had wanted to do was go downstairs and get something to drink, but he couldn’t do that with Craig in the way. If he tried to get around him, he had the feeling something bad would definitely happen, so he just stood there and fidgeted.

“I was going home ‘cause school got cancelled...but everyone expected me to go bring you home instead. I don’t get it, I could have called your parents,” Craig explained, shrugging. “...So you were right next to Kenny when he died, huh.”

Tweek gulped. Of all the things Craig could say, he had to bring _that_ up. Well, maybe he had _wanted_ Tweek to see that, because it sent a message – if he got too comfortable with anyone, they would die. Craig would make sure of that. It seemed pointless, though – people just weren’t Tweek’s thing. In fact, he had been moved into another, smaller fourth-grade class because the amount of people in the main one had made him anxious. However, recently he had been moved back into his old class just so he could be seated next to Craig. Now, if there was ever any reason to complain about the alleged relationship, this would be a good one, as it directly interfered with arrangements that had been made to make him more comfortable in school. With what he knew now, it’d be a miracle if he could get through class without his mind being filled with intrusive thoughts pertaining to murder, whether it be of himself or of other people.

At any rate, being this close in proximity to someone who had killed two people in a short amount of time was _very uncomfortable_ , to say the least. He was unable to answer Craig’s question, instead remaining as still as he possibly could. Maybe he could play dead. It didn’t work as well with people, but he had already fainted once that day. It was reasonable to assume he was still feeling at least a little weak.

“...That was a stupid question. You’re covered in his blood,” Craig pointed out. “Go take a bath, dude, I’m not talking to someone who has Kenny’s blood on his face.”

_Because **you killed him!**_ Tweek thought. Maybe Craig was feeling guilty about all that. After all, it had caused a huge commotion and PC Principal had implied he was going to get the police to investigate this. People knew it was no accident, or at least Tweek did, anyway. Why else would a shelf have fallen right on the only person he had talked extensively to that day? That couldn’t just be a coincidence. Craig had to have caused it, as it was just too convenient for what he was setting out to do.

There was one thing he needed to hear from Craig, though, something that would prove or disprove his suspicions. “W-what did you—ack!—did you see Cartman at all since yesterday?” he asked.

“Why the hell would I care where Cartman went? Fuck that guy,” Craig replied. So he was lying to cover his tracks. Tweek wouldn’t have expected him to say, _Yes, I killed him,_ anyway. But if he had, that would have proved Tweek’s theory, too. Craig hadn’t been finished talking, apparently. “He could be dead in a ditch, for all I care.” Tweek gasped. By itself, it was an innocuous statement, one that only served to express how disinterested Craig was in Cartman’s whereabouts, but not when he was sure that Craig had killed Cartman. “I heard you punched him in the dick yesterday,” he continued.

First, he talked about Kenny’s death, and now he brought up the incident where Tweek ended up touching Cartman’s penis? Tweek was really in for it now. After this, he would undoubtedly be dead. “Oh, Jesus! W-what about it, dude? I _swear_ I wasn’t _trying_ to touch it, he—I was gonna get _ten dollars!_ ”

“I would have punched him in the dick for free, but...” Craig smirked and slapped Tweek on the shoulder. “Nice one.”

“Aaah! I—n- _nice one?_ ” Tweek repeated. Didn’t Craig _care_ about what had happened if he had killed Cartman over it? He must have been exceptional at hiding how he was feeling at any given moment. Tweek was shaking so hard he could barely talk, as he was likely to bite his tongue right off if he tried.

“Yeah, fatass had it coming,” Craig replied. “I can’t believe you got to punch him in the dick _and_ he gave you money for that.”

“He didn’t give me money!” Tweek exclaimed. “I-I...it was an _accident_ , I didn’t mean for that to happen!” Sweat was running down his face, bringing a bit of the dried blood with it. If he could see what he looked like at that moment, he could only assume that he looked like a _total mess,_ even if his clothes were on properly for once.

Craig seemed to think so, too, because the next thing he said was, “Aren’t you gonna take a bath? You have blood on your face.”

“Yes I’m going!” Tweek replied, taking a step towards the doorway. “But don’t _follow me_ , oh god!”

Craig grimaced. They weren’t in public, so there was no need for them to act gay, let alone act like they might do weird, borderline-sexual things. “...Yeah, well I’m not gay, anyway. I got my parents to buy me Fallout 4 for going on a date with you a couple of days ago, so I really want to go home.”

“Augh! Wh-why don’t you do _that_ instead of hanging around my house?” Tweek asked, stepping out into the hall. The bathroom, no, _safety_ , was only a few steps away. By distracting Craig with the thought of video games, especially extremely hyped new games, he was able to get a little closer to a place where he wouldn’t be killed – unless this was exactly like _Psycho_ , in which case he would need to find a way to pull the entire toilet out of the floor so he could barricade the door with it.

“Your parents said I could have dinner here,” Craig said, shrugging. It was free food, and he could put off going home for that. Besides, he would be thought of as a heartless bastard again if he didn’t at least spend some time with his “boyfriend” after he had seen a kid die and fainted in that kid’s blood.

The only response he got, however, was the slam of the bathroom door. Although Tweek’s distraction had been imperfect, it had been enough to buy him enough time to scurry into the bathroom and lock the door. Unfortunately for him, however, there was nothing to barricade the door with. He didn’t know if Craig could pick locks or not, but it was better to be safe than sorry when _sorry_ really meant _stabbed to death in the shower._

Nothing happened as he washed Kenny’s blood off his skin and out of his hair, even though he was keeping the shower running very low so he could hear if someone was trying to get into the bathroom or not. That just made the process of washing the blood out _longer_ , but in all honesty, he wanted to skip dinner even if he hadn’t eaten all day. He planned to sit in the shower until someone, preferably his mom or dad, came to get him. If Craig came to get him, however...well, he wondered if he could flush himself down the toilet.

Eventually, his mom knocked on the door to call him to dinner, and he was obligated to get out of the shower, dry himself off as best as he could, and get dressed. He didn’t do a _great_ job of drying himself off – he came out of the bathroom with damp hair (but hey, it actually lay flat for once!) and large wet spots on his (now incorrectly buttoned) shirt and jeans. Being hunted down was definitely running him ragged.

Although he remembered his parents’ invitation, eventually, anyway, Tweek still yelped when he walked into the dining room and saw Craig, eating pork chops and mashed potatoes along with his parents like it was his house. Tweek really didn’t know what to say about that. If he wasn’t so utterly terrified, he would be disgusted at how normal Craig was acting despite the fact that he had caused two deaths. Nobody suspected a thing! It was like he was the only one who could see Craig’s true nature, or something cliched like that.

He sat at his usual spot at the table, but he was unable to do much more than pick at his pork chops and eat a spoonful of mashed potatoes. While his parents, of course, supplied him with coffee along with the food, it wasn’t enough to calm him down. He stood up, went over to the coffee maker, and started drinking straight out of it. Every time he turned around to see that the other boy was still there, he would yelp loudly, which his parents ignored. To them, this was normal, as their son was just overly anxious about things like that.

The fifth time Tweek turned around and screamed, Craig actually commented on it. “Dude, the hell is your _deal?_ It’s just pork chops,” he said, gesturing at the food with his fork. It didn’t help Tweek at all, who just continued to stare out at him in shock, his face ridiculously pale. “Alright, fine,” Craig sighed. “If you think there’s weird stuff in the food, look.” He began to eat again. Absolutely nothing happened to him.

“Gah! That doesn’t prove _anything_ , man! You could have an—an antidote for whatever you put in there!” Tweek blurted out. “You’re t-trying to get rid of my parents so you can have me to yourself! Oh god, _someone save me!_ ” With that, he made a mad dash for his room, only to stumble and crash onto the floor. Picking himself up, he continued on his way, but slower, this time.

Frowning, Craig looked over at Tweek’s parents, who had only briefly glanced over when their son had tripped. “What, you’re not worried about that?” he asked, although he wasn’t the _best_ person to bring something like that up – he didn’t appear to care either, what with his monotonous voice.

“Well, dear, sometimes things are too overwhelming for him,” Mrs. Tweak explained. “He _did_ end up being right next to the accident at school today, so you should give him some time to calm down.”

“Yeah.” Craig went back to eating. That made sense to him, but it didn’t explain why, among other things, Tweek all of a sudden thought he wanted to kill him. It was odd his friend was acting that way, but again, Tweek wasn’t mentally the same as everyone else, even if there was _something_ up with basically everyone who lived in South Park. If he had to guess, he’d say Tweek would be fine after some time to himself, even _if_ he would most likely develop a morbid fear of metal shelving units.

That judgment was incorrect. Tweek was only developing a morbid fear of the boy who was having dinner with his parents—but that meant the next time he came out of his room, he’d probably find his parents dead.

His hand slipped and he knocked down the barricade he had been building out of Legos. “Aaah!” he yelled, trying to right the structure and place it against the wall as best as he could with his shaking hands. “He heard me he heard me _heheardmeheheardme oh **god,** he heard me!_”

Nobody heard him, though. He needed to think, he would be fine – would Craig _really_ kill his parents? People would definitely notice that. But then, Tweek would be obligated to move in with Craig, as everyone would expect that to happen. Didn’t that just seem way too convenient?

He wanted to pull his hair out and scream, since he couldn't go downstairs and get coffee. He couldn’t, not when he could possibly come down to see his parents’ cooling bodies.

Why did this have to happen to _him_ , of all people? It wasn’t like there wasn’t _enough_ after him already. The only thing he had done was manage to become Craig’s friend – did this mean that had been a bad idea? Well, it had been a horrible idea. Nothing was worth this sheer, overwhelming terror he now felt – not even the times where he had thought he _had_ found someone he could be calmer around. But if he told his parents (if they had survived) that he wanted to move because they’d all be murdered otherwise, they’d tell him he was just being paranoid again. He doubted they’d listen to him. If Tweek was lucky, he’d sink into the floor and nobody would ever see him again – that was all he could hope for.

Again, there was a knock on his door. But this time, he was decent enough to speak while he was doing it. “Hey Tweek, it’s me.”

“Gah! Why are you still here? G-go home already!” Tweek exclaimed. He wasn’t going to open the door this time.

“Chill. It’s just me.” It was just a murderer, that made him feel _so much better_. _Thanks, Craig._ “I’m going home, I just wanted to ask if you want to come. I got Fallout 4.”

“You did?” Over the past few weeks, Craig had expressed a desire to get that game – Tweek had thought it had been nice he had actually been excited for something, for once. And then he remembered who he was talking to.

“Yeah, my parents got it after we went out that one time. It’s pretty cool.” Craig had made no move to get into the room, let alone open the door. Tweek’s mom and dad must have advised Craig against provoking him too much when he got panicky. While he was trapped, kept inside his room by the voice at his door, it was way more preferable to seeing the blue-coated boy in the flesh.

“It’s cool you got it, but—god, what are you trying to do?” Tweek pushed himself against the door, trying to keep it shut. He wasn’t the strongest, but with his life on the line, he need to do all he could in his defense.

“I’m just asking if you want to come over,” Craig replied. Despite all the weird shit about them being a couple, they _had_ been friends before that. Sometimes, friends invited friends over to play video games. That was all there was to it.

“That’s not _fair_ , dude!” Tweek exclaimed. “You know everyone expects me to go hang out with you all the time!”

“I was just asking, I mean, you’ve been acting pretty weird today.”

“Well I saw—I saw someone _die_ , man! What do you think?” Even if he couldn’t scream and call Craig a murderer, Tweek still had that to fall back on. He had just been talking to – well, he didn’t think he and Kenny were _friends_ , what with Kenny’s own friends using Tweek as a replacement for him when they had all thought he was dead – _someone he was on good terms with_ , when that someone had suddenly and messily died. Even the most mentally stable person would be shaken up by that event.

“Yeah. I think sitting in your room all night isn't gonna help,” Craig explained. “So if you came over, maybe you’d stop freaking out over that.”

That was easy to say when _Craig_ wasn’t the one who had the sound of the shelf crashing down stuck on repeat in his head, but it was solid advice. Much better than what Tweek’s parents would say – they’d tell him he just needed to be calm, without offering any help on what he was having trouble with the most, which was actually calming down in the first place.

“I can’t stop _thinking_ about it, dude!” Tweek said, opening the door. “Like—I’ll be sitting here and I’ll think about it and oh Jesus, what if I’m next? What if anyone else is next? What if—”

“Dude, c’mon, _breathe_.” Craig just so happened to have cut Tweek off before he could start accusing him of these hypothetical deaths. “We’re going to my house, and I’m gonna show you this fucking ridiculous power armor I got in-game.”

Tweek tried to do as he was told, shutting his eyes and forcing himself to inhale and exhale slowly. Craig was frighteningly _good_ at this, acting like he was completely normal. One would never be able to tell that he had so much interest in Tweek that he’d kill to have him. He didn’t even have any blood on his hands – no, Tweek was the one who did, what with him crawling all over the accident scene. The scariest part was that it was _working_. He _wanted_ to go over to Craig’s house and see how he was doing with Fallout 4. It might pacify the other, for one thing: if he was busy showing Tweek his game, he couldn’t possibly be out killing people. That must have been how people like him and that one girl in that show were, doing those things so their love interests would _have_ to be with them all the time.

It was a lot of pressure on him, but he had to do it. There was no telling who would be next if he didn’t get Craig to stop one way or another.

“Yeah, let me just—let me just tell my parents I’m going, okay?” Tweek replied. He tried not to twitch too badly as he did that, but his dad only gave him a travel mug full of coffee and a lecture on safe sex, to Tweek’s mortification and Craig’s disgust. They were going to play _video games_ , not have one of _those_ kinds of dates – this wasn’t even a date. This was something any two guys could do without people thinking they were gay.

But as he and Craig walked, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had walked into a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fallout 4 and chill


End file.
